


Speak

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Comfort/Angst, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Middle School, Moral Lessons, Personal Growth, Real Life, Realistic, School, Story within a Story, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: “…A bully talks loud when danger is at a distant; but, the moment she is pressed hard by the enemy, she is nowhere to be found and leaves the brunt of the battle.” Those were the words spoken by Charles Colton when asked to describe a confrontation between a bully and a teacher.





	Speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraStarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraStarlight/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This fic is based off a true story.
> 
> Warning[s]: Leo is a guest speaker for his old middle school and he is retelling his own experience about bullying. If you are uncomfortable with the subject of bullying and uncomfortable about a character talking about is experience as a victim of such acts, I recommend that you avoid half of the story.
> 
> This fic flip-flops between the present where Leo is at his old middle school and the actual narration of Leo's story when he was a victim of bullying. Every if you see a "***", it is followed by Leo's narration. If you see a normal "---", following after it is the narration for the present-day where people are reacting to what Leo is saying and you get insight to how he's feeling because he's opening a part of himself that wouldn't normally share.

On February, Friday the 13th; there was a guest speaker. Students from Looker Junior High filed into the main gymnasium, clinging to one another with open arms. A few heads rested on sturdy shoulders, eyes peeking out from disheveled bangs or fringes that hid a canvas. A canvas with an instrument to speak, the keys resonating over an influential tongue. Never to be used except for grunts, a slither of a mumble, or for a curt reply that was no more than a syllable. A usual sight, even amongst the younger grades. The younger students copying the older ones in their gestures and attitudes, putting up a facade of indifference and rolling eyes while teachers walked beside the stack of bleachers, shushing and getting everyone seated before the guest speaker arrived.

When all was calm and calm was a rather loose word to describe it, the principal of Looker Junior High approached the middle of the gymnasium and reminded each and every student about the rules that an audience must follow. Remain courteous when someone is speaking, don’t distract others with electronics and sly whispers, remain seated until asked to stand, and be the mature young adults that Looker Junior High was known for.

With that said and done, the principal took a step back as foreign footsteps echoed out in the hallway before entering the gymnasium. A man, _possibly in his late twenties at best,_ shuffled past the gym doors with a sports bag slung over his shoulder. A Longhorn patch sewn over the blues and reds that blended across the gentleman’s jacket, conveniently tied around his waist. A cheery smile tugged his lips, and his eyes were bright and golden. Possibly another motivational speaker because Looker Junior High didn’t know when to give up.

But the stranger in the midst spurred some curiosity amongst the students. A few recognized who he was.

_“Good morning, everyone.”_ A soft, airy tone resonated from the overhead speakers. The guest speaker rolled a microphone back and forth between his fingers, skimming his eyes across the decked bleachers. _“My name is Leo de la Iglesia.”_

The few that recognized him clapped. _Pitter patter,_ an echo that grew stronger as more and more students joined in on the applause. Not knowing who Mr. de la Iglesia was, but he had to be important if the school invited him here. Leo had a good laugh, bowing his head in a polite-manner and returning a few claps before the applause died out.

_“I guess a lot of us are still sleepy. What period is this?”_

“Second.” The booming choir of voices was almost music to Leo’s ears. Though deadpan and flat for the most part, a few ripples of excitement were in the crowd and Leo smiled. A humble smile if there ever was such a thing. Leo slid his sports bag off his from his shoulder and gently placed it on the floor. He only had a few minutes with everyone, about twenty at most before he had to beat the morning traffic to return to a familiar ice rink.

_Enough time,_ Leo he told himself. He brought the microphone back to his lips.

***

_“…A bully talks loud when danger is at a distant; but, the moment she is pressed hard by the enemy, she is nowhere to be found and leaves the brunt of the battle.”_ Those were the words spoken by Charles Colton when asked to describe a confrontation between a bully and a teacher.

\---

Immediately, the atmosphere in the gymnasium shifted. The rustling of shoes against the unyielding metal bleachers. Some eyes stared indifferently, a cold expression with a harsh glare. Some eyes softened up, looked away from Leo. Gaze dancing over fumbling fingers as a distraction. Some eyes didn’t know where to look, but Leo’s gaze remained firm and he treaded carefully with his words.

***

I don’t know if this came up organically, or if that quote was part of his plan since the beginning. All I know is that every time I say that quote-- _whisper it underneath my breath, even--_ I think of a memory.

When I was in middle school, I was bullied.

\---

_Why am I saying this?_

Leo’s throat constricted and a bit of what he said was cut short. Faded out along with his confidence, fingers digging into the microphone because his body seized itself. Gripping tightly to the muscles and nerves that were triggered by fight-or-flight. Leo took a few deep breaths, steadied the _thump-thump_ of his heart. He licked his lips, painfully aware that they were dry and chipped. His buck teeth sunk down to meet his bottom lip, grazing the edge of his skin.

It was no secret that Leo was a victim of bullying. His family and friends knew, but the details were obscure because Leo chose to hid them, including from himself. Even if he could play and pretend that the events never occurred, he would only be lying to himself. It was against everything about why he was here. Standing in his former middle school’s gym with inquisitive minds and quiet hearts watching him, wondering if he was going to retell an epic of how he slayed bullies and became a better man and went on to be a success.

Even that sounded fake to Leo, and Leo was just a man. Just a man with his skates, his music, and a life that was entirely his own. That was why he was here.

_I feel bad for these kids. They’re not going to listen to someone cool._ Leo’s hand steadied itself and the microphone stopped shaking. What felt like ten minutes was only twenty seconds, and Leo brought the microphone a bit closer to his face. A bit of a pace compelled him to walk around, work out the jitters and stutters that would wind up in his throat if he wasn’t careful.

An audible sigh fluttered out from the overhead speakers.

***

I think everyone can relate to that, give or take the endless scenarios and words that we could've said but didn’t. I’m not asking for a raise of hands, but I want you all to think about it. _Have I ever been bullied?_ Here’s my follow up question: _Why?_

All of us have different responses, and it’s okay. With over eight billion people on Earth, it’d be scary if everyone was the same. With diversity, we have differences. With differences, we have bullying.

Walking down memory lane, I’ll never forget what happened to me because these events and these actions made me who I am today.

\---

Leo tipped his head back for just a moment. Eyes closed, a flutter of a melody perched on top of his shoulder and whistled into his ear. His _short program_ from a distant memory came to his beck and call. The gentle thuds of the piano keys and the thrills and spills from the vocalists sprung goosebumps over Leo’s skin. The kind of goosebumps that psyched one up for a challenge, and Leo found himself at peace with the melody’s harmony. A steady backdrop that he could lean against because his heart needed it.

***

A lot of tardies slipped from underneath my feet because I didn’t want to be in class. If I showed up with my backpack, I was good as dead. If I was invisible, at least I was safe. That was my rationale for a long time. It seemed better to escape than do anything else because it was something that I could control, and I didn't want anyone to take it away from me.

\---

A girl clung to the edge of her sleeves. The shoulders of her sweater began to sag, and she yanked them back up. Nails digging into the fabric, suddenly shy as her eyes darted back and forth and wondered if anyone noticed. She leaned forward in her spot, head turning a bit to the left or right depending on where Leo was while he paced around. Eyes never leaving his audience’s gaze because though he was speaking to many, it felt as if he was speaking to each of them, individually.

A soft, nurturing voice that extended a helping hand, but the girl wasn’t sure if she could reach out to it. Leo held his hand out to her, ever patient until a few fingers wrapped around his and Leo gently pulled her forward. Along with the others, whose voices had died a long time ago.

***

At school, I was labeled as the quiet kid. Sitting in the corner of a small classroom, all to myself. Left with my books as I worked alone because I didn’t want to stir trouble. Those were the days where I went to school, participated in my classes, and tried to live a normal life.

If I kept skipping, my grades would slip and the cycle was doomed to repeat. As a small rebellion to myself, I did all the things that I didn't want to do. Small activities  that were manageable because of my skittish nature at the time. And then afterwards, I could stay in my personal bubble and find some peace.

\---

About fifteen years ago, Leo looked up from his notebook. His pencil moved, scribbling in notes that a teacher projected onto a smart board via wires and connections. Hieroglyphic equations sat on a pedestal of text before the teacher explained what each variable meant. A definite roll of the eyes from those sitting by the door. Slouched in their seats, a pencil between their teeth because there was no better way to kill time than to kill an instrument that made it worse.

Leo refrained from staring at them for too long. Eyes sinking back to his own notes, trying to make sense of what he jotted down. A loose ear bud ran up the length of his jacket’s sleeve and nestled in his right ear, playing a few songs that he wanted to skate to once school was over. While a journey on the ice was nice, Leo still had assignments to do and he had to break from his daydream.

Glancing up every now and then before hunkering back into a tiny world that he constructed for himself. Where no one could touch or hurt him, because he was there with the music and the music was with him.

***

I would say that I was vulnerable because I didn’t understand how moving from Elementary to Junior High would cause so much change. The people I went to school with, ate lunch with, and played tethered ball with changed over the summer and became carbon-copies of the people I once knew. To them, it was all part of growing up. To me, I felt left behind and the bullies noticed that.

They seek out those who don’t follow the crowd, and I eventually found mine. A gang of boys, dressed in black and each had their own bandana. Either laced around their neck or hanging out from a pocket, backs slouched over to emphasize the bagginess of their clothes. Embodying a criminal-posture that I was taught to stare and walk away from, but no one ever teaches you how to run.

\---

Leo’s lips were dry again. He took a moment to lick them but all the while, the visceral memories from his youth swam back to shore and his body froze. _Should I just skim this part?_

_No, I’ll be cheating the students if I do._

***

I was in class when the bell rung, signaling every student to leave their current-class and got to the next period. My body moved on its own, but my mind was elsewhere. Thinking about what I could’ve said, what I should’ve said, and what was better off unsaid. Those were the kind of thoughts that occupied me as I tried to adjust to an older school setting.

\---

_“How many of your were a little anxious when you became a sixth grader?”_

Hands rose up and Leo followed the fingertips with his eyes and memorized the faces of all those who who wanted to share. More than anything, a few were shocked of how many hands were raised. Nobody felt alone and the honesty was perhaps more heartwarming than what Leo originally expected.

He couldn’t ignore the little dove of warmth that nestled against his chest, giving him the strength to speak.

***

While walking to my next class, the bandana gang approached me. Leering at me as if I was a bug. The only fate worthy enough for me was to be squashed. At least, that was what their eyes told me.

One of them _\--he wore a blue bandana around his neck--_ slammed me into the nearby lockers. Pinned against the unyielding metal, crushed under a grasp that I couldn’t crawl away from, and there was some sort of sadistic pleasure behind the action. As if I was a chew toy that would satisfy a craving before someone fed the dog.

\---

Instinctively, one of Leo’s fingers throbbed. A pulsating beat curving the finger until it was almost unbearable to support the microphone with it. Leo held the microphone with his other hand before hiding his throbbing finger into his pocket.

***

I was alone. I didn’t know why they were after me, or why they signaled me out.

I thought to myself, _“Should I inform the teachers about this.”_

If people knew, they would look at me with disdain and utter betrayal.

As soon as you’re in middle school, nobody wants a tattletale. To tattle meant embarrassment.

All the words I wanted to say were hitched at the back of my throat when I stared back into the eyes of my main bully.

Upon injecting fear, he let me go. I stood there with my head looking at the ground. I knew I was safe because I was only looking at shoes. And when ten pairs of shoes shuffled away, a sigh clung to my lips.

\---

Leo breathed softly, inhaled for five seconds and exhaled for seven. Carefully counting a rhythm in his head and steadied himself. He heard his own heartbeat next to his ears, so Leo focused on the beats and thought of a song. Enough of a distraction where his body loosened up, and his limbs didn’t feel tight or clammy.

***

Day by day, the gang sought me out. They looked and caught my eyes, injected fear until I was ready to submit to the punches and stabs that blossomed over me like I was a sick garden patch. Adorned with bruised cabbages, dark tomatoes, oozing blueberries, and a heap of other compost materials that seemed appropriate because I was their victim.

My eyes closed, my arms crossed. My head tilted down, chin pointed at the tinkering beats of my heart because it bruised and ached more than any flesh-wound that they inflicted on me.

\---

Leo watched his audience. Eyes flickered from face to face, observing the slight curl of lips, the shift in gaze from a few individuals, or the sudden drain of color from Leo’s descriptions. People react differently to trauma and Leo observed a real-life example before his very own eyes.

***

The punches didn’t stop until one of them broke my finger.

\---

Leo’s throbbing finger went numb.

***

I don’t know if I retaliated with a punch or if I stared coldly at my assailants. All I know was that my legs moved on their own, guiding me down a hallway while I held onto my broken finger. The passageway led me to the assistant principal’s office.

There, I calmly asked if I could speak to her and found that I was already was. She looked at me with big brown eyes, filled with curiosity before I told her my situation. Her lips moved, her voice furious when she told me that action would be taken. She handed me a paper and asked me to write a report of what happened. I wrote about half a page before I was carted to the nurse's office so that my broken finger could finally heal.

\---

A little smile tugged the ends of Leo’s lips. A few faces copied his smile, but many others just stared at him. Either disappointed with the climax of his story, or confused that he was smiling despite what had happened to him.

Leo simply shrugged.

***

A few days later, I found out that the gang was sent to ALC-- _Alternative Learning Center._ The involvement between me and the assistant principal had led many students to look at me with contempt, but I was a hero to those who lived their lives in silence.

\---

The girl with the sweater clung to Leo’s every word, eyes brightening up. Her fingers hovered near her lips; her nails near the edge of her teeth. About to chew, but she wanted to hear the end of Leo’s story.

Leo rolled his shoulders before delivering the finish.

***

The importance of the issue had led me to understand that bullying is something that we can’t ignore. Pretending that it doesn’t exist doesn’t change anything for the lives that are brought to revenge or even death because they can’t handle the suffering anymore. Before long, the victim will also become the bully, and they will fight and punish those who took them for granted.

Do we really need another cycle of hate? It's already stamped in the pages of history, and aren’t we supposed to learn from history than doom to repeat it?

I believe with intervention and cooperation between the staff and students, bullying will diminish in our schools and in our society. If we can encourage love and friendship than hate and revenge, wouldn’t our future be a much safer place?

**Author's Note:**

> I know that people seek fanfic to escape from real life because real life does suck, but there are issues that we cannot ignore so I want to integrate a few into the YoI fandom. Not because I don't like cute stories or dramatic fantasies or whatnot. I strongly believe that by incorporating real life lessons and issues into fanfic, we can learn something about ourselves.
> 
> Of course, not every issue has to be a controversy. I will always retain my G to T ratings for my fics, and I want to impart lessons or just food for thought to think about because writing is like that to me.
> 
>  
> 
> Want to interact with me on Tumblr? @joey-wingster


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